


the boy who grew flowers

by thespottedowl



Series: bedtime stories [1]
Category: Gøøns (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Childhood Sweethearts, Flowers, Inspired by..., M/M, The Boy Who Grew Flowers by by Jen Wojtowicz, probably ooc but idrc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespottedowl/pseuds/thespottedowl
Summary: The Bowagons were the only folks who lived on Lonesome Mountain. The townspeople argued as to whether it was because they were such strange folk that they lived there, or whether it was because they lived there that they were such strange folk. However, everyone agreed that the Bowagon clan was a hotbed of strange and exotic talents. Brandon’s Uncle Dud liked to tame rattlesnakes, and his brothers and cousins were all shapeshifters.But Brandon himself had the most special talent of all: during the full moon, he sprouted flowers all over the top of his head. It was a beautiful sight, and they were the prettiest, sweetest-smelling, and longest-lasting blossoms you ever saw.
Relationships: Dallas | SnipingSoup/Brandon Chriswell
Series: bedtime stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057403
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	the boy who grew flowers

**Author's Note:**

> an idea that's been pinging around in my head for a little while. comfort books and former comfort creators. still cleaning out my drafts, but I had a bad day and this is the one I wanted to finish. enjoy!

Brandon Bowagon was a boy from the deep country. He lived out past where the blacktop road became a dirt road, and the dirt road petered out into a little foot path.  The path wound through the ancient trees of a wild forest, hopped Bear Creek, headed all the way up Lonesome Mountain, made a right hand turn, and ran smack into the Bowagons’ door.

The Bowagons were the only folks who lived on Lonesome Mountain. The townspeople argued as to whether it was because they were such strange folk that they lived there, or whether it was because they lived there that they were such strange folk. However, everyone agreed that the Bowagon clan was a hotbed of strange and exotic talents. Brandon’s Uncle Dud liked to tame rattlesnakes, and his brothers and cousins were all shapeshifters.

But Brandon himself had the most special talent of all: during the full moon, he sprouted flowers all over the top of his head. It was a beautiful sight, and they were the prettiest, sweetest-smelling, and longest-lasting blossoms you ever saw.

Some folks might stay home sick in bed if they happen to sprout — but not Brandon. Every morning following a full moon, his mama would gently clip the flowers from her boy and off he would go to school.

Now, Brandon liked school; at least, he liked the thinking and reading part. But he was shy and quiet and different from the other children, so the teacher gave him a seat at the back of the room and did not bother with him. As for the children, they had all heard rumors about Brandon’s strange relatives, so they stayed at a safe distance from him.

* * *

One day Dallas Quiz came along, a boy whose family was in the ballroom dancing business and had just moved from Tuscaloosa. He was what some would call a plain boy. He had an easy manner, a luminous smile, and his right leg was shorter than his left by an inch. He always wore a flower behind his right ear. Brandon liked him straight away.

So did everyone else. Dallas was always surrounded by friends. Brandon observed him from a distance.

“He is forthright and honest, yet always kind,” he thought.

He also admired the flowers Dallas wore behind his ear: a different one every day, and all of them as lovely as he.

As for Dallas Quiz, he soon wondered about this quiet boy who sat alone at the back of the class. So he asked the other children about him.

“His Uncle Dud has a pet rattlesnake called Fat Lucy, and she sleeps on the end of his bed!” hissed Fuster Shrimp.

“And his mother uses a bowling bag for a purse!” giggled Shirleyanne Smeeth.

“And his granny was raised by wolves!” snickered Gertrude Prugg.

Dallas did not laugh. “Why won’t anyone talk to him?” she asked. The others fell silent, the question rattling through their minds.

* * *

One afternoon, the teacher announced that the school dance would be held that Saturday night at the church hall. Several of his classmates asked Dallas to go, but he smiled small and distant and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t be much of a dancing partner,” he laughed each time.

Brandon was struck by the wistful note he heard in his voice. “He comes from a dancing family,” he thought, “and he loves music. I bet he’d really live to go to that dance.”

The minute the teacher's back was turned, Brandon slipped out the door. No one noticed except Dallas, who glanced back at his empty chair every now and then. He marveled at how Brandon‘s absence could take the shine off such a pretty, sunny day.

When Brandon reached his home high on Lonesome Mountain, he went straight to his Uncle Dud’s room. He rummaged under the bed until he came up with several feet of Fat Lucy’s shucked-off skin.

Next, he dug through his mama’s bowling bag purse until he found a needle and spool of silk thread. Then, in the tumbledown shed off the kitchen, he turned up an old leather mule saddle.

Brandon sat down and cleared his mind. He thought intently about Dallas’s feet. He could picture their shape and size, and more importantly, the inch of space between his right foot and the floor. Then he cut and stitched and glued. He worked right through from Thursday afternoon until Saturday morning.

When Brandon was finally done, there on the table stood the loveliest pair of snakeskin slippers that had ever been seen this side of Black Bear Creek. The sole of the right slipper was one inch thicker than the left, so that Dallas could stand true and straight and tall. Brandon imagined him dancing. He thought that thought so long, and the warm feeling deep inside him was so pleasant, that even though the full moon had not yet risen, he sprouted a bunch of wild pink roses from the top of his head.

That afternoon, Brandon followed the footpath down through the forest, across Black Bear Creek, along the dirt road, onto the blacktop road end of the hill. Halfway up the hill, he opened the small gate and walked up the little path that led right to Dallas’s front porch.

Dallas was helping his mama sew up a fancy new tango dress. The whole house was quiet, and every little snip of the scissors made a sad little tweak in his heart. He thought about Brandon and how he had missed him at school all day Friday, and then he thought about that thought and tried to place just why he was sad. All he could picture was Brandon’s warm, soft smile, the one he only seemed to give Dallas.

When Dallas heard a knock at the door, his heart flipped. There stood Brandon, with a bunch of wild pink roses in his left hand and a pair of snakeskin slippers in his right.

“These are for you,” he said, offering Dallas the slippers. “If you wear these, you’ll dance just fine.”

Dallas wriggled his bare toes into the slippers then and there. For the first time in his life, he felt himself stand up straight. He took one step, then another, and then he did a little practice dance step. Dallas looked at Brandon with delight.

“Will you be my dancing partner?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to do that kind of dancing,” said Brandon shyly, scuffing the toe of his shoe in the dirt.

“I’ll teach you!” Dallas said insistently, voice still full of delight. He grabbed Brandon’s hand, fingertips pressing warm and joyful into his palm. Step by step, ears full of Dallas’s pleased laughter, they danced together down the path.

* * *

Warm light flooded into the ballroom, and still, all Brandon could think about was the warm press of Dallas’s body against his, and the his excitement every time they got a four-step right together, and-

Dallas beamed at him.

* * *

After the dance, Brandon walked Dallas home. They stopped on the way and sat under an old buttonball tree. Dallas told Brandon about his family, and he told Dallas about his.

Then, with a pounding heart, he revealed to Dallas the fact that he sprouted flowers all over himself during the full moon. Dallas smiled with the light. Then he bent down and showed Brandon where the flower he wore grew right out from behind his ear!

* * *

From that day on, Dallas Quiz and Brandon Bowagon were fast friends. Dallas wore his snakeskin slippers every day, and when the slippers wore out, Brandon made him another pair. He has been making all of his shoes for twenty-five years now. The two of them have their own house up on Lonesome Mountain — only these days, it’s called Sweet Blossom Hill. Gardening is how Dallas and Brandon earn their living. 

Actually, it’s a family business. You see, everyone of their seven children has a green thumb.

**Author's Note:**

> 1/33 wips


End file.
